


Hobbit Ficlets Collection

by Ilthit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Hobbits, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I love hobbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_rubyandhergingercat via email: Frodo/Sam/Rosie, College AU (3 sentences)_

"I said I wouldn’t let you give up Cambridge for us, and I meant it," said Sam, waving his own acceptance letter at Frodo in the golden glow of the Christmas lights. Rosie, snuggled up at Sam’s side on the couch, squeezed his arm with pride as Frodo’s jaw dropped. 

Two and half years later, on a balmy autumn day, they got to show her around campus on her first day.

-

_danae-b asks: Breathless, Peregrin Took_

Pippin ran until the every breath tore at his throat. The pain in his side told him he should have dropped a long ago. He kept running, because (if he didn’t catch the wagon they’d all go to the fair without him) the staccato of relentless boots pounded the ground all around, driving him on like cattle. All around were the smells of unwashed bodies and turned earth (must be sowing time), butcher shop stink (a hog for the Yuletide feast?), old rot and filth. The stench hung so heavy he could taste it.

Dark spots swam in his eyes, until they filled his vision, and all was black.  

-

_rubyandhergingercat via email: Sam Gamgee, Adoration_

He’s been in love with her his whole life, of course. He’s known she would say yes since before he followed Mr Frodo out of the Shire, so long as he didn’t get himself killed in some faraway land first. It makes it no less of a miracle that he’s lying beside her now in the small hours of the night, sleep-warm and snug in Bag End’s second-best bedroom. 

It’s the hour and the day to say silly things, so he does, by the dozen. Rosie giggles and tells him he hasn’t picked up an ounce of sense from all that travelling, but she snuggles up closer and squeezes him as if she never means to let him go; never again let him wander head-first down the gullet of war. 

-

_danae-b asks: Breathless, Peregrin Took_

Pippin ran until the every breath tore at his throat. The pain in his side told him he should have dropped a long ago. He kept running, because (if he didn’t catch the wagon they’d all go to the fair without him) the staccato of relentless boots pounded the ground all around, driving him on like cattle. All around were the smells of unwashed bodies and turned earth (must be sowing time), butcher shop stink (a hog for the Yuletide feast?), old rot and filth. The stench hung so heavy he could taste it.

Dark spots swam in his eyes, until they filled his vision, and all was black.  

-

 _rubynye asks: anxiety, Pippin/Diamond <3_

You’re supposed to come back from the wars braver. That’s how all the old stories go. And, well, Peregrin Took did. He’s not a child any longer. 

Diamond saw war sneak in through the backdoor, sowing fear and harvesting obedience. You couldn’t let yourself think of the violence underground, behind locked doors, until they got to you, as they would, as they must. Whatever bravery she had got used up and tired during the Troubles. 

The Thain’s son, hero of far-off lands, still wakes up in cold sweat sometimes. They’re not that different. 

It’s peace that will make them strong.


	2. An Informal Breakfast (Merry/Pippin + Frodo)

It is well known that few things make hobbits as happy as food. Whatever happened between waking and breakfast, however distasteful, was bound to seem less so once a hobbit gets a little jam and toast under his belt, not to mention a bit of cheese, some fresh milk, tomatoes and lettuce, perhaps a few pancakes, a spot of porridge, and of course a few cups of tea.

Though Frodo was happy that his cousins had made up their early morning row - something about a misplaced ancestral ring, a due date for signing up for golf, and a particularly fat pig - and had returned to being joined at the hip, he rather wished they weren’t also joined at the mouth. At breakfast, especially when entertaining a visitor, mouths had other, more important tasks to attend to, of which the other was conversation. Giggling while licking jam off each others’ lips did not count as proper breakfasting. 

After a while Frodo ceased his attempts at conversation, smiled, shook his head, and broke protocol himself by fishing out his correspondence at the breakfast table. Uncle Bilbo had a great many things to say about his neighbour’s unsightly new garden.


	3. How Do You Like Them Apples (Rosie/Sam + kids)

Sam and Rosie broke their kiss as little Rose ran between them screaming with laughter, her brother Merry in hot pursuit. “It’s not fair!” Merry wailed.

“It is too! You said I could have any one I chose!”

Merry was inarticulate with tears. Elanor sauntered to the kitchen door, a half-eaten apple dangling from her hand. “He thought you meant any one of the apples, Rosy-Rose. You know he did. Not any one of his ribbons.”

“Give Merry back his ribbon, Rose,” said Mistress Rose. 

“But he said…!”

“Merry would never give his ribbons away, you know that and I know that. Now give it back. You’ll just have to wait until market to get your own.” 

Rose pouted but handed her brother back his treasure. The tears, unfortunately, were already too copious to be stemmed, and Merry continued disconsolate even with the ribbon clutched to his chest. 

“There now, lad,” said Sam and gave Merry a quick hug. “Now, all three of you - put those apples back, or it’ll be mucking duty for all of you, and a bellyache besides. You know they aren’t for eating yet.”

That quieted them down. Elanor attempted to hide her apple behind her skirts, and all three soon found reason to be elsewhere.

“Now, where were we?” Sam asked. Rosie grinned and leaned in.


	4. Everyday (Pervinca)

When you’re the youngest daughter of the Took and Thain, nothing you do seems terribly ordinary or everyday, no matter how many times you run away to bake tack for the Resistance with your second and third cousins in Frogmorton… though to be fair, that was rather like an elf-story to begin with. Whatever Vinca did, she was a lady, and ladies did grand things, whether they baked or embroidered or wielded swords. Ladies did not toil on the fields at harvest time or milk cows and shovel manure every morning come rain or shine; ladies did not walk from one end of the Shire to the other for want of a pony; ladies, in other words, had nothing on lasses.


	5. Firstborn (Rosie and Elanor)

Rosie had been sure that Elanor was both colicky and a hopelessly picky eater the way she carried on, until one morning when her mother saw her feeding the babe on a stool outside Bag End and told her quite plainly she was doing it all wrong. You don’t offer her the nipple but the teat, said Lily, and let her have a mouthful of it, or she’ll keep you and your Sam and his Mr Frodo up ‘til crow’s call.

A few adjustments set them aright, and sure enough there was then none of that wiggling and mewling Rosie had started to think of as normal: only a happy baby at her breast, latched on contentedly and filling her mother’s heart.


End file.
